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I knew what I wanted to name my new born daughter even in high school. It wasn’t as if I was planning to have a daughter all the time, but the whisper of the name sent shivers down my spine.

I was at the pier in 1963; it was midsummer and the bay swept that strong seawater scent over the entire San Francisco area. My girlfriend bought me a pearl, the ones where you see a man jab the life out of a defenseless clam until he find the gem.

Ironically, it was analogous to me, a dark grimy useless clam, sunk at the deepest murky pit of the ocean. But inside; inside I had a soul so milky and pure. I was so distant, naiive, and misunderstood. As I stared at that little pearl, it was as if I wanted to marry a spirit I could not touch.

“Oh gosh, you got a little one!” I peered up from the pearl at my girlfriend’s face. “Not worth more than a dime.” “But I like it… look it glimmers your reflection, why can’t you enjoy the little things in life?” She didn’t reply, she was too focused on the barking sea lions basking in the sun.

I wanted to name my daughter “Opal”, the way that little pearl looked. I wanted my daughter to shimmer her soul as if it was the only thing she had, and cast away that dingy shell that hid a beautiful personality. It’s something about opal, it looks as if… as if a soul was gleaming from the inside. It’s not a kind of gleaming like a small spot of sun, nor like a cocky blast of light. Opal sways and moves like the marble and water, flows and shines gently but with conviction.

I married my girlfriend 15 years later after meeting again at our high school reunion. Our first child was a boy. My wife named him Joel.